


sorrow and ill weather

by expectopatronuts



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Hurt No Comfort, Pre-Fall of Overwatch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-03 20:44:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/expectopatronuts/pseuds/expectopatronuts
Summary: Hypothesis: Heroes never die.Counterexample: Angela Ziegler's body.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hover for translation if you're on desktop, and check the end notes if you're on mobile.
> 
> If you're looking for something to listen to as you read, this trip down to angst city was largely brought to you by Capercaillie's _Fainne An Dochais (Ring of Hope). ___

**7:35**

Moira walks into laboratory 3B, still rubbing remnants of sleep from her eyes.

" _Maidin mhaith _," she says as she spots Angela already bent over her work station.__

____

" _Grüezi _," Angela answers with a bright smile, looking up briefly. "Come to keep me company?"__

______ _ _

"Much as you'd like that, no," Moira says with a tiny smirk. "I'm going to proofread the paper."

______ _ _

"Again?" Angela lets out little exasperated huff. "Just give it a rest already. You've revised it, I've revised it, Winston's revised it; just stop worrying. It'll be approved. It's perfect."

______ _ _

Moira ignores the fact that she can feel her cheeks flaming.

______ _ _

"Perfection doesn't exist," she answers instead—though, some part of her brain thinks, Angela is proof to the contrary. "Just a last re-read," she says. “I’ve had a really bad streak of rejections lately, I want to make sure.”

______ _ _

“It’s _fine_.” Angela smiles again. "By now, you must know more about custom genetic programs than McKellar herself.”

______ _ _

"Because McKellar's dead.”

______ _ _

Angela shakes her head without looking up from the Caduceus Staff, cleaning out a speck of dust from one of the junctures.

______ _ _

"Just leave it be,” she says. “The more you revise it, more flaws you’ll imagine.” She points at Moira with the staff. “Now, go and get me coffee.”

______ _ _

Moira raises her hands in mock surrender.

______ _ _

“Don’t point your metal stick at me. You’re supposed to be a pacifist.”

______ _ _

“The Caduceus,” Angela says seriously, “is a symbol of hope and healing. My technology is used exclusively—”

______ _ _

As Angela talks, Moira makes her way around to her laptop, silently. Her progress is brought up short when Angela’s eyes come to rest on her again.

______ _ _

“ _Get out_ ,” Angela snaps, but a smile plays around the corners of her mouth. She hefts the Caduceus again. “Out, or I hit you with the stick.”

______ _ _

Moira decides to save her dignity and bows out, making a detour only to leave a kiss on Angela’s temple.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**8:02**

______ _ _

“This is, first and foremost, a recon mission,” Morrison says. “Our aim here is not to take out Talon, it’s to look for a weakness we can exploit.” He pushes his blond hair back. “There should be no problem, but make sure you keep your powder dry anyway, alright?”

______ _ _

Moira raises her eyebrows at the phrase—nobody says that anymore; hell, nobody uses powder anymore, except maybe McCree—and shoots a look at Angela. She doesn’t look back, she’s studying the plans of the city they’ll be operating in with her head bent down and a little frown between her eyebrows.

______ _ _

A strand of hair has come loose from her ponytail.

______ _ _

If they weren’t in an official meeting, Moira would tuck it behind her ear and then whisper the lamest pun she could think of to make her frown disappear.

______ _ _

Instead, she checks that Morrison isn’t looking at her, pulls up the screen of her holo-tablet under the table and opens a new email.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**To:** angela.ziegler@overwatch.com

______ _ _

**From:** moira.odeorain@overwatch.com

______ _ _

**Subject:** Mission Details – Classified

______ _ _

**Message:** keep ur powder dry ziegler

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

Moira hits send and instantly Angela’s phone gives a little buzz. She unlocks it without picking it up and Moira sees her bite her cheek to keep from smiling. Her blue eyes sparkle with amusement as she glances at Moira. 

The frown is gone from her face.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**9:23**

______ _ _

Moira lugs her pack onto the transport—the Wonder Pack, as McCree has dubbed it—and drops it in a corner of the aircraft. The fluids mix together then settle back, purple on the bottom, yellow on top.

______ _ _

She walks back out into the morning light, to where Angela is talking animatedly with Amari junior, picks up the bag containing the Valkyrie suit from the ground and takes the Caduceus from her hand.

______ _ _

Angela awards her with her easy smile, and Moira wonders at her luck as she slings the Caduceus across her back and shrugs her shoulder to adjust the weight.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**10:12**

______ _ _

They’ve been on the air for barely half an hour and Angela is already dozing, her head tilted back and her mouth slightly open.

______ _ _

Tracer emerges from the cockpit just as Athena’s voice announces that the autopilot is engaged.

______ _ _

“Approximate flight time, five hours and forty minutes,” the AI says.

______ _ _

Angela opens her eyes briefly and makes an indeterminate sound. She looks at Moira and blinks twice before leaning her head on her shoulder and closing her eyes again.

______ _ _

“Yes, feel free to use me as your personal pillow,” Moira says sarcastically. “It doesn’t bother me at all.”

______ _ _

She only catches a glimpse of Angela’s sleepy smile as readjusts her position slightly, snuggling closer to her.

______ _ _

“Thanks, _Schätzli_ ,” she mumbles.

______ _ _

Moira only rolls her eyes in response, but she vows not to move at all in those five hours and forty minutes.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**10:43**

______ _ _

Moira’s eyes close almost of their own accord. Her breath becomes regular and deep with the steady quality of sleep.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**11:05**

______ _ _

She breaks her vow as her head falls slightly to the side and her cheek comes to rest on Angela’s blond hair.

______ _ _

Angela shifts slightly, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**15:32**

______ _ _

Moira’s spine cracks as she stretches with her arms above her head. When she bends down to pick up her pack her lower back pops again.

______ _ _

“Don’t do that,” Angela says over her shoulder. She stands with her back to Moira, shrugging her left arm into the Valkyrie suit. “It sets my teeth on edge.”

______ _ _

They’ve had this conversation so often that it’s almost scripted.

______ _ _

“You've cut people’s bones in half with a mechanical saw and _this_ sets your teeth on edge?”

______ _ _

Moira adjusts the straps of the pack and turns her head first to the right, then to the left to release the tension in her neck. It pops with another little crack.

______ _ _

“Quit it,” Angela says, swatting playfully at Moira.

______ _ _

Moira ducks out of the way and releases a puff of her yellow healing fluid. It hits Angela right on the face, making her splutter.

______ _ _

“Behave now, Dr Ziegler,” Moira says with mock seriousness. “This is no time for horseplay, our _lives_ are at stake on this mission.”

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**15:52**

______ _ _

The Overwatch team steps off the transport and into the glaring midday sun.

______ _ _

Morrison stands in front of them, his pulse riffle strapped and ready for use.

______ _ _

“Remember, in and out and there should be no trouble,” he says. “But stay frosty just in case.”

______ _ _

Angela glances at Moira at the same time Moira glances at Angela. They manage not to burst out laughing, but it’s a close thing.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**16:11**

______ _ _

“All right, everybody, this is it,” Morrison finishes going over the plan. “Try to keep in range of the healers as much as you can. Reinhardt, we’re counting on your barrier should anything happen.”

______ _ _

“Don’t worry,” Reinhardt says, puffing out his chest. “I will be your shield!”

______ _ _

Moira turns to Angela. She looks at her and feels her chest constricting with now-familiar worry. There are a thousand things she would like to say to her; there always are, before a mission. But her throat is so dry that swallowing hurts, so she just takes one of Angela’s hands in her own and runs her thumb over the lines of her palm.

______ _ _

“Keep your powder dry, _mo stóirín_ ,” she manages finally, and despite the joke, her eyes are dead serious.

______ _ _

Angela smiles softly, looking down at their entwined hands.

______ _ _

“And you stay frosty, _Schätzli_ .”

______ _ _

When Angela looks up, Moira kisses the corner of her mouth gently. They hug, briefly but so tightly that Moira can feel Angela’s heart beating in her chest.

______ _ _

“I love you,” Moira whispers.

______ _ _

Angela squeezes tighter.

______ _ _

“And I love you.”

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**16:28**

______ _ _

“It’s an ambush!” Lena calls out through the comm system. “Watch your six, guys!”

______ _ _

Talon mercenaries come at them from seemingly everywhere, and the Overwatch team huddles together behind Reinhardt’s barrier.

______ _ _

“So much for ‘no problem’,” Moira mutters under her breath.

______ _ _

She’s about to throw one of her purple orbs when she feels the prickle of the Caduceus damage boost function. She holds the ball in her hand for a second, relishing the feeling of power, then lets loose.

______ _ _

“ _Giorraíonn beirt bothar_ , huh?” she says, with a glance over her shoulder.

______ _ _

Angela smiles grimly—her Gaelic really has come a long way; a much, much longer way than Moira’s German—and flies to Reinhardt, her healing stream now tethered to him.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**16:43**

______ _ _

Reinhardt's shield cracks and the Overwatch team is forced to retreat and regroup behind a crumbling brick wall. Angela takes the opportunity to do a quick check-up on them and fix what she can.

______ _ _

"They're too many," says Tracer, panting. "We've got to change our strategy."

______ _ _

"Just be quiet" says Angela. "And stay still, you've got shrapnel in your face, Lena."

______ _ _

Moira can see the first signs of exhaustion on her; the way her mouth is set in a thin, hard line and her jaw clenched tight. There is a streak of blood on her forehead. Moira can't tell if it's her own.

______ _ _

"Maybe if we tried to get to higher ground, we could—"

______ _ _

"Oi," Moira calls. "Doctor said to be quiet, so keep your mouth shut."

______ _ _

She looks at Tracer, almost daring her to speak, and turns away. It's a testament to how tired Angela is that she doesn't reprimand her for snapping at her protégée.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**16:48**

______ _ _

Morrison decides to go with Tracer’s idea and move to higher ground. Lena and him dash around to the rear of the Talon group blocking their way while Reinhardt smashes his way through the front. Moira stays with him, keeping her biotic grasp activated on both hands, ready to heal him and to take down anybody who might try to flank them from behind.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**16:56**

______ _ _

Their progress towards the hill is stopped when a new wave of mercenaries cut off the avenue, forcing them to duck into a side street .

______ _ _

“Regroup!” calls Morrison through the comm.

______ _ _

“Wilco,” answers Moira, though she’s not at all sure that they will actually be able to comply with the order.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**17:13**

______ _ _

Searing pain comes with every breath Moira takes. The raised pavement digs into her back as she coughs out dust and blood, gasping for air.

______ _ _

The blue glow of Reinhardt barrier flickers but holds, and she hears his roar doubled through the communication channel.

______ _ _

“I need healing!”

______ _ _

Moira catches his eye after he swings his hammer it in a wide arc and manages to mouth a _thank you_.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**17:22**

______ _ _

“Mercy,” Moira whispers, almost inaudibly, as Angela kneels next to her. The ghost of a smile plays around her eyes, but a wave of pain turns it into a grimace when it reaches her lips.

______ _ _

Angela’s grip on her staff is so tight that Moira can see the ridges of bone in her knuckles.

______ _ _

" _Ich bin da_ ," she says gently, and Moira knows enough German to understand that. "I've got you."

______ _ _

Then there is the tingling feeling of the healing stream and the relief of being able to breathe again.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**17:34**

______ _ _

They’re holding their ground in the front yard of an abandoned house.

______ _ _

“Evac’s on its way,” Morrison assures them.

______ _ _

Moira thinks ‘evac’ is perhaps an overly generous term for the transport that brought them there.

______ _ _

“We just have to make our way to open ground so Athena can land.”

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**17:39**

______ _ _

“Watch out!”

______ _ _

Angela reacts in time and swings the Caduceus down on the mercenary’s head. There’s the sick crack of bone breaking, and the force sends the staff flying from Angela’s hand. It hits the opposite wall, and where the crack of the mercenary’s skull had failed at making Angela flinch, the sound of the Caduceus snapping succeeds.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**17:48**

______ _ _

The Talon assassin known as Widowmaker steps onto the roof of an abandoned building.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**18:01**

______ _ _

Moira crouches behind the last bit of wall standing as drains the life out of a Talon mercenary.

______ _ _

The meter on her pack indicates that it's less than half full. It's not enough, Moira knows, but it'll have to do.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**18:20**

______ _ _

The Overwatch team pushes forwards and the Talon mercenaries seem to give way.

______ _ _

There’s a sort of stillness in the air. Rain clouds are coming in from the east, darkening the sky.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**18:22**

______ _ _

The Talon assassin known as Widowmaker lines her sights.

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**18:31**

______ _ _

A drop lands on Moira’s left hand as she trains her biotic grasp on Tracer. As she looks up, another lands on her cheek.

______ _ _

“Sorrow and ill weather,” she says under her breath.

______ _ _

“What?” Angela asks, not taking her eyes from Morrison, who is leading the way. Her blaster is in her hand and her finger hovers over the trigger, ready to unload her clip.

______ _ _

The broken Caduceus is slung across her back. It strikes Moira as a fitting symbol of their defeat.

______ _ _

“It’s a proverb,” Moira says.

______ _ _

In other circumstances she might have teased her, asked if there was finally something that the brilliant Dr Ziegler didn’t know. But the rain is falling in earnest now, and uneasiness pools in the pit of Moira’s stomach.

______ _ _

“Sorrow and ill weather come unsent for.”

______ _ _

 

______ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maidin mhaith - good morning  
> Grüezi - hello  
> Schätzli - little treasure  
> mo stóirín - my darling, little treasure  
> Giorraíonn beirt bothar - Two shorten the road, one of Moira's voice lines when damage boosted  
> Ich bin da - I'm here


	2. Chapter 2

**18:35**

The Talon assassin known as Widowmaker pulls the trigger.

 

**18:36**

Angela Ziegler collapses without a sound.

For a second, Moira is convinced she must have tripped. Then she sees the blood, a dark stain blooming over her left breast, spreading outwards in red tendrils.

"Sniper!" Moira says through the comm as she rushes to Angela’s side.

She's ready to release the biotic fluid—whatever is left of it—but Angela raises a hand to stop her. The movement makes her grimace in pain, but she grabs Moira's hand and holds on tight.

"Don't waste it," she breathes.

"It's not a waste, it's not—”

Moira breaks off when Angela breathes in a gulp of air with a shuddering gasp.

“Physician, heal thyself," she says when the pain recedes slightly, with a rueful look at the broken Caduceus Staff, lying next to her.

Her eyes flutter closed for a second, and Moira grips her hand tighter in a sort of desperation that she has no name for.

"Angela—"

"Take care of yourself, Moira," Angela breathes. "Keep them safe. Get them home.”

She opens her eyes and her blue gaze is steady, demanding a promise. Moira nods convulsively. Angela closes her eyes again, and Moira brushes a strand of white-blond hair from her face.

Her eyes are clouded when she next opens them, and somewhere in the back of her mind Moira thinks that they can’t be hers, they can’t be, because Angela’s eyes are quick, alert, clear as the open sky and just as blue.

But now the sky is clouded, and Angela’s grip slackens.

“I’m glad to have loved you,” she whispers.

Now tears are threatening to fall from Moira’s eyes, blurring her vision, and she wipes them away with something akin to rage, or maybe frustration.

“Don’t,” Angela breathes when she sees how Moira’s chest heaves with the beginning of a sob. Moira’s heart rises up into her throat when she smiles slightly, pushing past the pain. “Don’t,” she repeats.

With the last of her strength, she pulls Moira’s hand to her lips and presses a kiss to her knuckles.

“I’ll be watching over you.”

Her last breath brushes the back of Moira’s hand like the wind under a sparrow’s wings.

 

**18:43**

Moira has disproved one of Angela’s theories for the first time.

Hypothesis: Heroes never die.

Counterexample: Angela Ziegler's body.

It doesn't give her any joy.

 

**19:01**

The meter on her pack indicates it’s full already, but nonetheless Moira trains her biotic grasp on two other mercenaries until they collapse.

With the support of her healing stream and the protection of Reinhardt’s renewed barrier, Morrison and Tracer empty clip after clip into the Talon mercenaries until the water coursing down the street flows red.

As they retreat, and before any reinforcements arrive, Morrison gives the order to _go, go, go_ at top speed towards the empty parking lot in which Athena has managed to land the transport.

Reinhardt runs with his hammer slung across his back, thudding into him with every step.

In his arms, he carries Angela with the care of a father holding a new-born child.

 

**19:06**

The transport takes off with a roar of engines, and Moira lets herself slide down to the ground. She stays in the same position for the whole flight, her back against the wall and her eyes unfocused.

 

**00:51**

Moira understands why Gaelic doesn't have a word for ‘no’.

As they disembark, Ana Amari is waiting for them. The smile on her face morphs first into disbelief, then into horror when Morrison speaks.

"Mercy is dead," he says. “Angela,” he manages, though his voice catches in his throat. “She’s dead.”

No, thinks Moira. Heroes never die, Commander Morrison, don’t you know that? She’s not dead.

There is no word for the denial she feels.

 

**1:48**

Reinhardt’s back is a tableau of black and blue, and there are angry swollen welts across his shoulders.

Moira heals him with her biotic fluid as much as she dares, then gives him numbing cream and advises him not to sleep on his back.

“The body is a better healer than any doctor,” she says quietly.

Reinhardt’s head snaps up.

“She used to say that.” His voice comes out hoarse. “Angela. She used to say that.”

“Yes.” Moira turns her back to him and stares at the white wall, blinking back tears. “Get some rest.”

As Reinhardt’s footsteps thud in the direction of the door, Moira turns back around.

“Thank you,” she says. “For bringing her back.”

Reinhardt says nothing and closes the door softly behind him.

 

**2:04**

Standing in the middle of exam room 2, Moira feels her hands shaking at her sides. There is a lab coat hanging on the back of a chair. There is a hair tie on the desk.

Moira stares at it for what seems forever.

A fucking hair tie. There are a couple of blond hairs tangled on it.

Slowly, she feels herself slipping into shock.

 

**2:36**

Moira sits on the edge of the bed, her forearms resting on her thighs.

In nothing but her underwear, she trembles slightly.

Outside, the rain keeps falling.

           

**3:51**

Finally, she falls into an uneasy sleep.

She dreams of the fire in Tallaght, of the bombing of the hospital.

 

4:17

Moira wakes up gasping for air and sits up abruptly. She sits in the dark, trying to calm her breathing and hoping she hasn’t screamed.

Angela always assures her she doesn’t mind as she runs her hands gently through her hair, but Moira knows she needs all the rest she can get.

 

**4:18**

Moira grabs fistfuls of her hair as she cries with her head between her hands.

She’s free to scream herself awake now, because the other side of the bed is empty.

She can dream about Tallaght all she wants. Maybe, she thinks as she rocks back and forth, clutching the sheets, maybe she’ll expand the repertoire.

Maybe she’ll dream about the Caduceus lying broken on the wet pavement, or of the twisted poetry there is in shooting Mercy through the heart.

“God,” she gasps. “Please. Oh, god.”

 She hasn’t prayed in years, not since she left home at fifteen, and she’s not sure she remembers how.

Please don’t make me dream of her, she wants to ask. Please let me sleep. Please let me die.

“ _Le do thoil_ ,” she whispers between sobs. “ _Le do thoil_.”

She doesn’t know how to go on.

 

**4:42**

Exhaustion finally makes her pass out, her hands still closed around fistfuls of the sheets. 

 

**6:13**

The water is freezing, but Moira doesn’t care. She goes through the motions mechanically. Shower, brush teeth, hair gel.

Trousers, shirt, tie, shoes.

All black.

 

**7:00**

Morrison has decided to hold the funeral as soon as possible, mostly in order to avoid the crowd that was bound to gather.

It hasn’t worked.

The graveyard is filled to the brim, and people huddle in groups under black umbrellas, never speaking above a whisper.

Moira spots a group of people wearing lab coats over their black, the lapels embroidered with the symbol of Zürich General Hospital. A bit to the left, another group wears the uniforms of Medics Worldwide. There are more clumps that Moira doesn’t recognize.

Up front, McCree holds his hat in one hand and Shimada’s hand in the other. Fareeha Amari cries on her mother’s shoulder. Reinhardt stands alone, lost, until Torbjörn leads him away. Tracer stands next to a red-haired girl Moira has never seen before. Reyes and Morrison embrace briefly.

Moira stands alone, letting the rain drench her slowly.

 

**7:16**

There’s a speech.

Morrison breaks down and Amari has to step onto the podium.

She says words like irreplaceable, hero, legacy.

Kind.

Brilliant.

Proud.

Fierce.

 

**7:17**

Gone.

 

**7:31**

The coffin is brought out.

Moira stares at it, much in the same way she stared at the hair tie the night before.

Angela is not there, she thinks. Angela wouldn’t fit there. That box can’t possibly contain all that she was.

That box can’t possibly contain _her_.

 

**7:33**

As the coffin is lowered, she flees.

 

**7:35**

Moira steps into laboratory 3B, pulls up the screen of the computer and opens the document of her paper.

She types quickly, a single sentence, before closing the document and sending it to be reviewed.

_In loving memory of Angela Ziegler._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Le do thoil - please
> 
> let me know your thought, maybe?


End file.
